


Hand Grips Hand As My Eyes Shut

by batmandeh



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom Stiles, Dom/sub, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rope Bondage, Shibari, awkward fledgling Dom Stiles, rope bunny Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:10:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1282195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batmandeh/pseuds/batmandeh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has been googling shibari and gets ideas. Derek is so very okay with this...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand Grips Hand As My Eyes Shut

**Author's Note:**

> For my bestie who has had a shitty week and a mighty need for rope bunny Derek. I never intended for this to turn into 3,000+ words of awkward, fledgling Dom Stiles. But there you have it. Title shamelessly ripped from the lyrics of "Breezeblocks" by alt-J.
> 
> This is what Stiles ties on Derek, in case you're curious:  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GovRlmcteB8

“I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to… Trust me. I’m completely okay-thrilled! Thrilled actually, with the way things have been going. It’s just, the other night- when we… and I… it seemed like maybe…“

Derek stares, mouth agape as Stiles babbles on. They’re both sitting cross-legged on the couch, paper plates balanced in their laps and knees bumping a bit as Stiles flails and abruptly ends his speech. A slice of meat lover’s pizza hangs forgotten in Derek’s left hand as he tries to catch up to Stiles’ rapid line of thinking. Which somehow took them from throwing back a couple of beers and watching Star Wars, to Stiles proposing _bondage_.

Stiles’ eyes are wide and serious, and Derek belatedly realizes that he’s leaning slightly towards him, holding himself unnaturally still. Waiting for a response.

Derek takes a deep breath. Takes a long pull of his beer as he thinks back to the night before that Stiles’ had nervously referenced. Long fingers carding through Derek’s hair and tugging roughly, exposing his throat and holding him there. The clank as he sets the bottle down on the table seems unnaturally loud over the forgotten movie.

“Yeah,” he says softly, resting a hand on Stiles’ knee. “That’s something we could try. What would we need?”

\-------------------------------

 

They’d sat leaning over Stiles’ laptop that night, watching knot tutorial videos on youtube and ordering some lengths of rope. The way Stiles buzzed with nervous excitement as he tabbed through his bookmarks made Derek wonder just how long this has been on Stiles’ mind…

In the days that followed, they played lightly with the idea in the bedroom. Stiles yanking on Derek’s hair for a kiss, or holding Derek’s hips down hard while blowing him. Derek had gone off like a shot when, one evening, Stiles had pinned both of his wrists above his head with one hand, circling long fingers carefully but firmly against his throat with the other.

And yet, when the discreetly packaged box arrives on a Wednesday afternoon, neither of them is expecting it. It sits prominently on the kitchen counter. Stiles and Derek both putter about the apartment much of that day without acknowledging it.

Until Stiles can’t take it anymore. They’re in the middle of dinner when Stiles jumps up with a breathy _well, fuck_ , retrieving the package and cutting the clear tape with a kitchen knife.

And now, here he is. Sitting on the couch, twisting the end of a length of jute rope between his fingers as the rest of it sits in a neat pile in his lap. The corner of his mouth turning up a bit as he catches Derek staring. 

Derek’s not going to survive this.

“We should, uh… We need to set some rules, probably,” Stiles nods to himself. Clears his throat before he schools his voice into something firmer. The rope twists one, two, three times around the palm of Stiles’ hand, and Derek’s breath catches before he can stop it, “I need to know what you’re okay with.”

“Limits,” Derek replies, and a huge grin breaks out across Stiles’ face. “Yes, I looked at the rest of the links you bookmarked. You’ve peaked my interest with this.”

“Right, so… I’ve been thinking. And I’ve obviously never done this whole… Dom thing. So, it’s possible I severely over-committed and didn’t really think this through-“

“Hey,” Derek interrupts, dragging his knuckle across Stiles’ cheekbone. “I want to try this. With you. I think, maybe, this could be really good.”

Stiles grabs his face in response, planting a firm kiss on Derek’s mouth, and that seems to settle his nerves for the time being.

“Okay, wow… So, I obviously would like to tie you up. Make it so you can’t touch me, and I get to control what you feel. I want to take my time, and take care of you…”

Derek’s heart slams in his chest. He squeezes his hands against his thighs and lifts his gaze to Stiles’. Hopes Stiles can see in his expression how completely and utterly okay he is with all of this. When Derek speaks, his voice comes out soft and strange.

“Yeah, I want you to do that. I’m good with not touching, but I want to be able to see you. No blindfolds. I want to be able to watch as we do this...” 

“No blindfolds, okay. Good. And you read the thing on safe words? Green if everything is good. Yellow if you want to slow down or talk about anything. And red to stop. Seriously, just say red, and I’ll stop if anything isn’t okay…”

 

“Red, okay. Let’s do this…”

It’s only then that Derek sees the slip of paper in the box on the table. Instructions. For treating the rope before use. He skims over the numerous steps before handing it wordlessly to Stiles. 

“ _Fuuuuuuucccckkkkk._ ”

\-------------------------------

 

Stiles has work the following day, but Derek insists that he can boil the rope to start the treatment process. When he gets back to the apartment, he doesn’t even attempt subtlety as he makes a beeline for the kitchen table, where the rope is laid out, presumably drying.

Which is where Derek catches him leaning over the table, sing-songing, “Are you dry yet, little rope?”

“I don’t think that’s going to make it dry any faster…”

Stiles sighs heavily, casting a dirty look at the rope over his shoulder as he slinks into the living room and throws himself down on the couch stomach first. He reaches for his laptop and types furiously for a few moments before letting out a triumphant noise.

“You know we can tumble dry it, right?”

Even after ninety minutes in the dryer, the rope still feels stiff and damp, and Derek suggests hanging it on the shower rod to dry for the remainder of the day.

The next morning, Stiles eases the rope down and is pleased to find that it’s finally dry. He spends the rest of the morning lurking over Derek’s shoulder as he carefully singes off all the fuzzy bits. Stiles waits, wringing a clean rag between his hands, waiting to wipe the soot off each length of rope as Derek finishes it.

“You do realize you should probably practice the tying up bit before we try it in there,” Derek says carefully, with a jerk of his head towards the bedroom.

“Oh, I already practiced with Scott. We uh, got some cheap rope from Home Depot and well, Scott learned not to ask so many questions about my new-found interests…”

Derek snorts and hands Stiles a bottle of jojoba oil, gets a little lost in the sweet scent of it and the sight of Stiles’ hands as he massages the oil carefully along the rope.

 

\-------------------------------

It’s two days later and Derek’s kneeling on the bed, a length of treated jute rope coiled neatly beside him. There’s a pair of scissors on the side table. He hears Stiles suck in a ragged breath, steadying himself.

“Get undressed.”

A small nod follows, and Derek tugs the grey henley over his head. Folds it. Unfastens his belt and stands beside the bed to slip off his jeans. Folds those too. His eyes keep snapping back to Stiles, who is watching quietly, mouth parted. 

“And the rest.”

Stiles’ voice is cool, serious. Derek only knows he’s nervous because he heard the uptick of his heartbeat as the command left his lips. He hooks a thumb under the elastic of his boxer briefs, surprised by how keyed up he already feels. It’s not that he and Stiles haven’t done this part before. In the little over a year that they’ve been together, they’ve undressed for each other countless times. He thinks back to those first times, when this was still so new. Tearing gracelessly at each other’s clothing and scrabbling for whatever bare skin they could get their hands on. 

This is different, though. Stiles isn’t touching him, isn’t standing nearly close enough. Derek’s eyes slide over to the bed, the rope still coiled there. Soon he won’t be able to touch Stiles even if he tries. His eyes snap back to Stiles, still fully dressed in a soft tee shirt and dark jeans. His feet are bare on the wood floor. He tilts his head slightly, and Derek realizes he’s been waiting.

“Are you alright?” Stiles takes a small step closer.

“Yeah, yes. Green.” The word feels awkward in his mouth, but it’s the truth. He wants this. Is surprised by how much he wants to let Stiles take over. To give Stiles this. He’s half hard as he slips off his boxer briefs and folds them as well.

“Green, good.” 

Stiles grins, walking a slow circle around him. Once Stiles is behind him, he goes up on tippy toes, hooking his chin over Derek’s shoulder and rubbing his cheek against Derek’s stubble. Nips lightly at his jaw and breathes out against Derek’s ear, “You look so good like this.” His finger tips skate lightly down Derek’s arms. “Gonna look so good tied up for me.”

He grabs Derek’s wrists and pulls him together behind his back. Brushes a dry kiss across Derek’s shoulder and whispers, “Color?”

“Green.” 

“Perfect.”

Derek would swear he’s harder than he’s ever been in his life when Stiles pushes him forward until he climbs clumsily and kneels on the mattress, Stiles clambering up behind him and reaching for the rope. 

Watching out of the corner of his eye, Derek sees Stiles twist the rope into a knot, pulling carefully until two loops appear, large enough to slip over Derek’s arms. Stiles slips his own hands through the loops, reaching for Derek’s wrists and grasping them again behind his back. 

“Green,” Derek offers quietly, and feels Stiles relax again, guiding the loops up Derek’s arms until they hook over his shoulders. Let’s out a breath. Pulls the whole thing taut.

From then on, it’s quiet except for the sound of their breathing and the soft scratching of the rope. Derek keeps his head bowed, concentrates on the occasional brush of Stiles’ fingers against his back or arms as he makes each knot, pulls the loops, and reaches for his wrists again. Slips the rope up, up, pulls, does the whole thing again.

Derek can’t see much with Stiles behind him but realizes that his actions have changed. He’s now twisting and weaving the ends of the rope in the space between the lowest set of loops, the ones catching Derek’s wrists. Tugging gently, he makes a final knot and runs the ends of the rope between his fingers. Stiles’ forehead thuds against Derek’s shoulder, and he mouths at the place where a length of rope meets his skin. 

“Holy shit…”

Stiles runs his fingers up and down Derek’s arms, bumping over each loop of rope along the way before clasping one of his hands for a moment, squeezing. He slips off the bed, leaving Derek kneeling, and walks around so he’s finally in Derek’s line of sight again. Derek’s eyes rake over him before he can stop himself, noticing that Stiles is painfully hard against his jeans.

“C’mon. Stand up,” he breathes, helping Derek get awkwardly to his feet in front of him. He reaches behind Derek’s back and pulls on the ends of rope, causing Derek’s chest to go broad, shoulders back. Derek tips his chin up and meets Stiles eyes, waiting. “Jesus. What am I going to do with you like this?”

“Anything,” Derek sighs, acutely aware of each point of contact where his naked body touches Stiles’ clothed one. “Please, Stiles… I just need…” 

And there’s no way Stiles misses the way his eyes slide down, lingering on the bulge in his jeans. Stiles curses, crushing his mouth against Derek’s with one hand still holding the rope at Derek’s wrists and the other tangling in his hair. A noise tears it’s way out of Derek’s throat before he can stop it when Stiles pulls away with a scrape of teeth against his bottom lip. Even so, he catches the word clear as day.

“Kneel.”

Derek drops gracelessly to his knees, and rests his cheek against Stiles’ thigh as he begins to unfasten his belt. Stiles' fingers hesitate over the button of his jeans and he fixes Derek with a look.

“Green,” Derek mumbles against his leg.

“Green, shit. Good. Just so you know, this wasn’t the way I’d planned on this whole thing going down. I was planning on this being all about you…”

The moment Stiles has his jeans down past his thighs; Derek takes the opportunity to mouth wetly at Stiles through his boxer briefs. Trying to show how completely okay he is with this turn of events.

“No,” Derek is tugged roughly back by fingers in his hair, forced to look up and meet Stiles’ eyes. “If you want something, you ask for it…”

Derek is overwhelmed by how badly he wants to reach out and grab Stiles about the hips, to pull him closer. He knows that he could break loose from the ropes binding his arms at any moment and do just that. Knows that Stiles knows this, too. 

Instead he strains forward a bit against the grip Stiles has on his hair and pleads, surprised with how easily the words seem to come. Stiles listens to him beg, eyes wide and color riding high on his cheeks. 

“Shhh… enough,” Stiles presses his thumb lightly against the corner of Derek’s mouth. “Open your mouth.”

Derek’s mouth falls open, and Stiles gives himself a few lazy tugs before pushing past his lips, resting a moment against Derek’s tongue. Derek gives an almost imperceptible nod, and Stiles groans before fucking in to his mouth at a hard, yet measured pace.

Wet sounds fill the room, and Derek lets out a sharp gasp when Stiles finally pulls out and yanks Derek’s hair back to meet his eyes. “Color?” he breathes out, voice sounding wrecked.

“Green! Green, Stiles please-” He needs Stiles to keep fucking his mouth, to touch him, do something, anything.

“Stop talking.”

Derek immediately goes silent at Stiles’ tone, mouth falling open in a shocked ‘o’ that Stiles takes as his cue to fuck back into his throat in earnest.

“Good boy,” Stiles gasps out, and Derek’s heart races at the praise. He holds his body taut and licks sloppily along the underside of Stiles’ cock as his rhythm finally falters, and he comes down Derek’s throat without warning.

Stiles bows forward, bracing himself against Derek’s shoulders as he breathes deeply for a moment. Then, swearing softly, he drops to his knees in front of Derek and rests their foreheads together. Runs his fingers lightly along the ropes on Derek’s arms.

“That… you were so good. So perfect, Derek,” he continues to murmur praise as he kisses Derek’s face, drags his nails lightly along Derek’s thigh. “You must be so ready to come?”

Derek nuzzles against Stiles’ throat, rests his forehead against his shoulder. “Please, Stiles…” his voice sounds gravelly and not at all like himself.

“Only since you asked so nicely…” Derek can hear the grin in Stiles’ voice as he reaches behind Derek and tugs at his wrists, forcing him to lean back and look up. “But you have to look at me. I want to see your face when you come…”

Derek bites his lip and stares as Stiles licks his palm and takes Derek roughly in his hand. Stiles sets an intense pace, grip firm, and Derek feels himself racing towards the edge when Stiles pulls his hand away completely.

“Eyes open, Derek. You said you wanted to see. Close your eyes again, and I’ll stop completely…”

Derek opens eyes he hadn’t realized he’d squeezed shut, and sees that Stiles’ grin is absolutely wicked. He presses a kiss to the corner of each of Derek’s eyes and whispers “good boy” against Derek’s lips as he grips him again.

Stiles starts at a leisurely pace, but upping the intensity bit by bit until Derek is back on edge, breathing harshly and trembling. The instant Derek’s head starts to bow, eyes sliding out of focus, Stiles is there yanking his wrists back and forcing his gaze back up.

“Look at me, Derek,” Stiles’ warns, voice sounding every bit as wrecked as Derek feels, and that’s what does it for Derek. He comes messily all over Stiles’ hand and his own stomach. Stiles pitches forward, kissing Derek on the mouth and bumping their foreheads together.

“That… you are incredible,” Stiles stammers out, glancing between them. “And we should probably get you cleaned up. I’ll be right back, is that okay?”

Derek nods, and Stiles disappears in to the kitchen and then bathroom, returning with a washcloth in one hand and a glass of water with a straw in the other. He holds the straw to Derek’s lips as he drinks, and then begins mopping up the mess on his stomach as best as he can with the washcloth.

“I’m going to get you untied now…” Stiles sits on the floor behind Derek and begins unwinding the rope at his wrists, sliding each loop back off, and untwisting each knot. He massages Derek’s arms after each loop, marveling at the rope bite before Derek’s healing kicks in and heals it.

When the last of the rope slips off of Derek’s shoulders, Stiles winds it up and drops it on the floor to be dealt with later.

“Do you want to take a shower?”

“I’d rather get in bed with you…”

Stiles gets to his feet, helping Derek up after him. Makes his way to the bed and turns back the blankets, allowing Derek to slip underneath. Stiles pulls on a pair of sweat pants before following.

“Your back stiff?” 

“’S not so bad…” Derek mumbles, rolling on to his stomach, already drifting off.

“Let me massage it anyways?”

Derek grunts his affirmation, and Stiles kneels up besides him. Begins to knead Derek’s shoulders, eliciting a soft sigh.

“We should do this again…”

Derek smiles against the pillow, sighing again as Stiles works the tension out of his back.

“Definitely…”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr:  
>  http://batmandeh.tumblr.com
> 
> Let's be friends, k?


End file.
